Pansy re-appeared a half a mile away from Nott manor. She told herself it was to give herself time to pull herself together, to strengthen her occlumency walls. If she was being honest with herself she would admit that she was trying to delay what was to come, lessen the time she would be spending in her personal circle of hell and put off the inevitable moment she was to aid in the death of a man.
The cool air pricked at her skin and she tightened her cloak, reluctantly making her way to her destination, building the wall in her mind brick by brick as she went.
The gate to Nott manor let her through, as it did for every marked member of the Dark Lords ranking. Only the unmarked followers had to be allowed in by a higher member which allowed her to pass through unnoticed after casting a disillusionment charm. The wards would register that she had passed through at some point of the day but due to it not registering a specific time she would be able to sneak to her guard post and ensure she was not in the vicinity of the dungeons before anything went down, thus giving her an alibi. With the amount of comings and going from the manor on any given day, plus the fact that she was severely underestimated by the majority of the death eaters, she would never be a suspect, thus making her the perfect person for this mission.
She slipped through the corridors, hating how well she knew them and made her way down towards the doorway to the stairs leading down to the dungeons.
She paused, dread creeping up her spine, cracks splitting right up her carefully laid occlumency walls. Her breathing grew shallower, she was struggling to pull air into her lungs, her vision growing black as memories began to overwhelm her.
A cold, cruel laugh.
Pain in her wrists and ankles, bound with chains.
The coldness of hands, hands that brought bile to her throat
I must not break.
I must not break.
I must not break.
A lubricating charm.
The invasion between her legs that she dreaded.
Tears and begging and breaking pieces inside her that she promised herself she would keep together.
I must not break, I must not break.
I'm already broken.
Pansy sucked in a breath as she pulled her occlumency back together, holding them whole with pieces of tape. She didn't have the strength to cast them with the cement to solidify them, but she hoped the tape would be enough to get her through.
Pulling air in for a count of four, holding for seven and releasing to a count of eight.
She repeated the step until she felt her resolve return, straightened herself up and pushed the door open, making her way down towards the cellar. Yet again she was glad for the overconfidence of the death eaters. Kingsley was left unguarded, their certainty that there was no need for such giving her the freedom she needed to make her move.
She heard the deep, raspy breaths before he came into view and a gasp left her lips at the image of the broken body bound to the single chair in the middle of the room.
The man before her was so badly disfigured from obvious beatings and tourture that if she had not known who it was, she would never have recognised him.
His face and limbs were swollen beyond recognition, the dried and still flowing blood concealed anything else. His head was hanging limp and shoulders slumped, a heavy contrast to the tall, proud, pureblood she had seen over the years at functions before the world went to shit.
"KIngsley? Are you awake?"
He jolted awake and she could see the tension spread throughout his whole body and she winced at the obvious pain he must be in. She had no idea how his resolve was holding up, how he remained quiet when reentering the waking world, feeling how much damage had been done to him.
His dark eyes met hers and he let out a low laugh.
"Oh what, you lot couldnt break me with torture and you couldnt get past my occlumency so you thought you would try coaxing information out of me with a young woman. Sorry love but you are really not my type. I prefer my lovers not to be young enough to be my children and decidedly not female."
If she wasn't shocked before she definitely was now. How could someone who was clearly going through so much trauma be able to find it within themselves to laugh? If she wasn't fighting every instinct to run, and could gather her thoughts properly, she may have been able to see that is what she and her friends had been doing for years now. Covering their trauma with sarcasm and deprecating humour. The human mind was a peculiar thing, what we would do in these situations was something she would have far rather never have had to think about, never mind witness. These thoughts would have to play over and over again later, right now she needed to keep her mind on the one thing she was here to do.
Carefully approaching Kingsley she crouched in front of him, producing the vial from her cloak as she did.
"I am most certainly not some pawn for the men to send down here, I would sooner die than let them ever have that control again." Kingsley met her eyes as she spoke, and she was almost certain she saw a softness in them at her words.
Keep your sympathy, you're the one dying she thought.
She took a deep breath, trying to stop herself from snapping at the man in front of her, after all, if she wanted him to take her seriously she had to rein in her outbursts.
"What's that?" Kingsley eyed the vial suspiciously.
"Neville sent it.." She started, but he interrupted her with another laugh, one in which she could almost hear the blood gurgling in his chest. It took all her willpower not to wince at the noise, that rattling was one all too familiar to her. "You can laugh but it's true, who else would think of this or more importantly have Water Hemlock Root on hand in the middle of a war? Longbottom is clearly behind this. Well Granger and Lovegood had a say in it too I suppose. How did that happen anyway? Turns out the Golden Trio ended and Granger went on to create the Diamond Trio…" She was rambling and she knew it, but if she stopped talking she might start thinking again and that wasn't an option.
"Diamond?" Kingsley asked, cocking his head to the side in question.
"Yea, they have been cutting through everyone on the Dark Lord's side, but the only ones that are going to be able to cut through them is themselves."
"Very clever Parkinson." He chuckled, "I thought we had them to thank for a lot of things, but sometimes what you don't know wont hurt you, or others for that matter."
Pansy nodded at him then used her wand to free one of his wrists from the bindings secured around them. He took the vial from her shaking hand, a new resolve evident in his features, and used his teeth to uncap it.
"Best be off Miss Parkinson, it appears I have a new journey to take." He nodded to her and she turned to leave, as she was climbing the stairs on extremely shaky legs she could swear she heard "Stay safe" from behind her.
As soon as she made it to her post she leant against the wall and tried to gather herself but was only given a moment of reprieve before the shouting started. Every part of her protested the idea of following the noise, not wanting to re enter her personal hell for the second time in one day, to see the man she had just handed his own cause of death too, but she had no option. Her legs felt made of lead as she dragged them back downstairs, the panic from the rest of the death eaters stationed there grew louder and more panicked as she stopped in the same room she had been in not five minutes earlier.
"He's fucking foaming"
"What the fuck happened"
"Bastard has managed to get untied"
"Someone call him, he will want to know"
"I'm not summoning him"
"Well I'm sure as hell not doing it"
"Help me get him up!"
These bunch of idiots were standing round Kingsleys body arguing over who was going to call the Dark Lord, each knowing that whoever did would be sure to face the consequences of his anger. The chair in which Kingsley was still attached to bar the arm she had freed lay on the ground, he had white foam coming from his mouth and his eyes were completely bloodshot. She noticed one little twitch from him before he was completely still, and she turned her back to him, unable to juxtapose the two versions of him.
Seeing him bound, lying on the floor motionless with all these men gathered round him, in this room, made her stomach turn and she felt the bile rising in her throat. Her chest felt constricted, like devil's snare had encompassed her.
Her feet were moving of their own accord, all she could focus on was the small gulps of air she was taking in that seemed to do absolutely nothing.
Not now, not now, not now.
The tears were falling, if her mother could see her now, running down a family's halls in tears she would be sure to have been punished. Pretty girls don't make a fuss, they bat their eyes and turn the other way to what other purebloods do. Proper women do not fall apart.
She needed her boys, she needed to be safe, to be home.
As soon as she reached the end of the manors wards she tried twice to apparate but nothing happened. Her mind was spinning and try as she might she could not get a clear image into her head as to where she wanted to go. She was positive she was going to pass out, which only pulled on the panic more.
They'll get me. If I pass out they will come out here and put me in there with Kinglsey. They will want someone to take their frustration out on. Dracos is not here to save you this time.
She was spiralling.
But you can get to them, you can get to Draco.
With the thought of her boys waiting for her she took one last breath and spun, with the picture of them being the only image she allowed to fill her mind.
"Holy shit Pans, come here!" She heard as she landed in their living room, suddenly she had Theos arms wrapped around her as she collapsed onto the ground. "You're okay darling, you're safe." He muttered into her hair.
"Wheres….Draco...please…." She managed to get out.
"DRACO!" Theo shouted over his shoulder.
There was the sound of a door hitting a wall, and then footsteps thundering into the room, Draco flanked by Blaise both entered and immediately went to her. She loved them all so dearly, but Draco was the one that had nursed her through the very worst of her panic attacks, and therefore had become the person who anchered her and helped her come out of them to this day.
Theo stepped away as Draco helped her to her feet and brought her over to the sofa, he sat down beside her and she rested her head on his shoulder while he rubbed soothing circles on her back.
"You're okay Pans, I'm here and I won't let them do that again. You know I will kill any fucker who comes within a five meter radius to you that you don't want there." She gave a soft laugh to his words, feeling herself relax into him. "Just remember to breathe deeply, four, seven, eight, remember?" His familiar voice washed over her, and she made a conscious effort to follow his instructions, grounding herself with the counting.
Theo and Blaise sat opposite them, a quiet comfort washing over the room and they remained like that for a long while. It was Draco's hiss that broke the silence, and caused Pansy to startle.
"Summoned?" Blaise asked hesitantly
"Yea, but he can wait…" Draco started, and Pansy scowled at him.
"Brilliant idea Draco, cause we need you taking a crucio because I can't keep my shit together!" She snapped, unwilling to let him undertake this self sacrifice carry on again.
"It's fine, you need me more than him. He has an endless supply of minions to shout at in the meantime."
"Draco Malfoy, get your arse off this sofa and go play the part." She demanded, pulling herself away from him completely and wiping the remnants of her tears from her face. "I am absolutely fine. I was being an idiot, I had a gurn, and now I am over it. So move!" She shoved him off the seat and was rewarded with a dubious look from him.
"Fine witch, but these two are going to stay and pamper you, and if you need me send one of them. I will be back as soon as I can." He grabbed his cloak and mask from the back of one of the chairs and headed towards the floo, taking a second to look her over as if to make sure she wasn't going to fall apart. Clearly satisfied she wasn't in fact made of porcelain, he disappeared in a flash of green flames.
Yes, she loved her boys to pieces, but she had learnt a long time ago they weren't gifted at picking up on her lies.